nextgenerationmarvel | This Has Not Been the Field Trip He Signed Up For ((X-Adult First, Maybe More Later))

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This Has Not Been the Field Trip He Signed Up For ((X-Adult First, Maybe More Later))

After Athos had been released from Murderworld, the ninja stealthily and silently went farther into New York City. Eventually the turtle found a nice park with some well-used benches. He sat down on one and tried to achieve utter stillness.

What Athos achieved instead was a transformation into a redheaded teenager sitting on a park bench. Pete looked around nervously. He wasn't sure where he was. Or where his chaperone was. He rubbed his hands together and watched life go by.

This place wasn't filled with mutants, but he still felt very alone. He wondered if there were even pay phones around any more. Though he wasn't sure who he would call.

So, he decided to sit there until someone found him or he got a better idea.

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"Uhm." Pete's stomach rumbled audibly. He clapped a hand on it and winced. That was loud. Possibly too loud. "Sure. Sandwich could work."

While the other two were being industrious, he tried to scout out a wall or counter out of the way he could lean against.

"One sandwich coming up." Franklin started assembling sandwiches. "Pete, are you more of a mayo or a mustard kind of guy?" He cut up lettuce and tomatoes, and got a bit of the deli-sliced ham from the fridge as well. A little ham did wonders for a chicken sandwich.

Franklin was looking over at that cake, and realized, that he probably should've arbitrarily demanded one for himself. Ah, the perils of adult responsibility.

It was probably just as well that he didn't partake.

The cake appeared to bake rather quickly. Then again, the kitchen at the mansion was impressive and high tech. Dolemeck opened the oven, using a toothpick to test the cakes inside. They were almost ready!

"These should be finished in another five minutes. Would you like some cherries on top of the cake? perhaps a strawberry?" He smiled, looking back towards Pete and then Professor Franklin.

"Mustard." Pete did not trust the goopy white blandness of mayo. He had it in a grilled cheese once. Never again.

He left out a breath slowly. And then he glanced around to make sure none of those giant mutant-hating robots were going to fall through the ceiling. It distracted him slightly from Dolemeck's question.

"Wha? Oh. No fruit, please."

Franklin was down with mayo, but on a grilled cheese? That was blasphemous. No wonder he was soured on the condiment.

Franklin noticed Pete looking around. He was pretty sure the poor kid was going to need ... more counselling, as if he didn't have enough problems in his life. At least he was safe now.

He finished up the sandwich, cut it diagonally, and handed it over to Pete. "There's chips in the pantry if you want some, too."

With much care, Dolemeck removed the cakes from the oven with his powers. He took care in setting them down on the counter, smiling at how they came out. He began to ice the mini cakes, then put them each on a plate with some powdered sugar as a garnish.

"Okay, one cake with extra chocolate frosting!" Smiling with pride over his work. He floated one cake over to Pete, and the other to Professor Franklin. But that smile soon faded as his phone began to ring. He took it out of his pocket, looked at the number, then silenced it. Dolemeck turned around and began to focus on cleaning the mess in the kitchen, so Hana would not box his ears for leaving it a mess!

Getting Pete into actual counseling would be the miracle. Turtle interruptus happened often.

"Okay," he responded to Franklin. He tread carefully to the pantry. He tried to find some barbeque chips without messing up the nice, pink lunch lady's food storage room.

He felt a nervous tremor in his chest and rubbed it. He just wanted to eat. The trembling stopped, and he snatched the bag of chips.

He came scooting out of the pantry. Pete glanced at the cakes. "They look good. Thanks."

If he was polite, the mutants wouldn't eat him, right?

The mutants would not eat Pete.

Franklin grabbed his own sandwich and took a bite. "Dolemeck, I thought the other cake was for you! Don't let me steal your hard work away from you." Though he had to admit that cake looked pretty good. But too many of those, and he was going to ruin his figure, and that'd make Katie mad.

He wondered if Doc Samson had any time these days. Pete had a lot of serious issues to work at.

"I doubt you're too worried about it right now, Pete, but you got an A on the paper you submitted before you went away. Good work."

"It is okay, Professor Franklin." He gave a gentle smile to him and Pete. "You both look like you could use cake more than I. Enjoy them!"

It did not take him long to clean up the mess he had made in the kitchen. He washed everything out, dried them with a towel, and placed each item back where it belonged. All with his telekinetic powers. Hopefully Hana would be happy that he washed everything out in the sink, and not just the items he used.

With his leg braces creaking a bit, Dolemeck walked over to take a seat by Franklin and Pete. He rested his cast on the table and just smiled.

"It is nice to be able to talk to you, Pete. You are the only other bloke my age I know in the school, currently. I was hoping that perhaps we could hang out sometime and become friends."

Pete smiled slightly at his grade. At least his school work didn't suffer. Or his school work that didn't apply to being a mutant. "Thank you, Mr. Richards."

He opened the bag of chips and poured some out next to his plate. Then he ate all his food like he hadn't eaten since he disappeared. Or it was a typical case of teenage boy hunger.

"There's Topher. Around somewhere," he pointed out quietly. Though Topher was completely inured to the whole being a mutant. Pete scratched his eyebrow. "I don't make my schedules."

"Thank you, it was a pleasure to read." Franklin replied with an easy smile, taking a few of the left-over chips and putting them on his plate. Not too many, though, or then he'd lose that trim figure Katie liked so well.

He watched the two boys talk, hoping that Dolemeck wouldn't be too aggressive in seeking Pete's friendship. Not that Pete didn't need friends- he did desperately, but he wasn't going to respond well to social forwardness.

Dolemeck realized his comments were somewhat ignored, so he decided to not pursue them. Instead, he sat slightly hunched over, looking a bit sheepish. Perhaps it was not wise to push Pete too much, especially since he just returned from going missing!

He decided to turn his attention to Professor Franklin, wanting to ask him a question.

"Professor Franklin? You once told me it might be possible to fix my spine, so I can walk again without the braces. I have been thinking about that a bit lately." Dolemeck looked up for a moment. "If possible, do you think I can get that surgery soon? If it is not too much trouble that is."

Pete hadn't ignored anything. That his explanation hadn't quite connected, short as it was, did not really bother him either. He was more focused on eating just about everything in front of him than on conversation.

He was diligently making sure he got every last crumb. It'd been awhile since he'd been the one to eat.

Franklin noticed that just about immediately and strategically diverted half of his sandwich onto Pete's plate.

"Don't worry, I can always make more."

It actually begged the question of how exactly food and nutrition worked between the turtles and Pete. One that he was sure Hank or someone else either knew or could find the answers for, but he was rather curious about ...

Edited 2014-10-13 19:42 (UTC)

Dolemeck became flustered, realizing Pete had not ignored him, that he was trying to get him to be friends with Topher instead.

"Well, Pete, even if you do not make your schedule... I do not mind waiting." He gave a small smile. "I mean, only if you want to be friends! You do not have to be, and I will not force you."

He gave out a sigh and returned his attention to Profession Franklin, wondering if his ability to walk was even a possibility, or just some silly fantasy.

Pete eyed the sandwich for a moment. Then he wolfed it down. He wiped his chin with his hand. He opened his mouth to reply except he burped. As it reverberated in the kitchen, his skin turned green and scaly.

In Pete's place was Porthos. "Duuuuuuuude."

The turtle scratched his neck and looked around. "Uh oh. Miss Blaire's wave."

"Dolemeck ... I'm really not the person to be asking about that, certainly not about when it can happen. That's really the responsibility of- somewhat, the Headmaster, but mostly, the medical staff at the Institute. I'm sorry, but I really can't give you a firm answer on that."

When Pete turned into Porthos, Franklin couldn't help but sigh slightly. Of course. It did help to distract a little from the awkward situation, though.

"Well, it was just you mentioned it and... I'm sorry. I will inquire with Head Mistress Ramsey when she is available." His eyes widened as he now saw Porthos in the place of Pete. That was quicker than expected, and he tried to remain calm.

"Good evening, Porthos." He tried to smile as best he could.

"Evenin', gentle dudes." He turned slowly to find the nearest exit. Once he found it, he stopped.

"I should drop out of this wave. Miss Blaire scares turtle-kind. She's the big kahuna of this place without a taste for our laisse faire eating 'tudes." He nodded to both.

"Hang loose, brahs." He headed toward the exit.

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This Has Not Been the Field Trip He Signed Up For ((X-Adult First, Maybe More Later))

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